Meanwhile David Lindsay went down stairs and registered their names and engaged rooms.
When this was done he came back to the parlor, accompanied by a waiter with a couple of keys in his hand.
Leaving this man at the door, laden with the two traveling-bags which had been pointed out, David Lindsay approached Gloria and whispered:
“A waiter is here to take up your bag and show you to your room. Will you go now, and will you have some tea, or whatever you prefer, sent up to you?”
She did not answer by one word, but, shuddering, arose, peeped through a fold of her veil, and, seeing the waiter at the door, walked towards him.
The man nodded, and led the way to a small suite of rooms on the same floor, consisting of a little parlor, chamber and bath-room.
He opened these and put down the bags, and then struck a match and set fire to the kindlings already piled in the grates ready for ignition.
Having performed these duties he turned to the lady and inquired:
“Any more orders, madam?”
“Madam!” echoed the girl, with bitter scorn, though in so low a tone that the word was nearly inaudible. “No, I want nothing; but, yes, you may bring me a cup of tea. My throat is as parched as a desert.”